


Specific kind of bravery

by Kulkuri



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Baker Derek Hale, Canon Compliant, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Derek Hale, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Therapy, Monster of the Week, Sex Toys, Sheriff Stiles Stilinski, Sterek Reverse Bang 2018, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Versatile Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, to season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kulkuri/pseuds/Kulkuri
Summary: As Derek is led through the dark preserve with a stun gun pressed painfully against the back of his neck, he thinks that theonly personwho could have caused this from beyond the grave could only be Peter.****





	Specific kind of bravery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idkmybffspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkmybffspock/gifts).



> I wrote this piece for Sterek reversebang 2018!
> 
> Thank you for the fantastic prompt to [ BFF ](http://idkmybffspock.tumblr.com/) and their beautiful [ art ](http://idkmybffspock.tumblr.com/post/175647503000/specific-kind-of) !
> 
> And as always, thank you so much for my brilliant, wonderful, patient beta, [ Sydburf ](http://sydburf.tumblr.com) !
> 
> I humbly thank all of my readers and everyone participating in the bang. I hope July keeps getting even better as more art and fics start popping up! Smooches to all of you!

  
  


Streaks of golden red light peek through the blinds of the bedroom. Derek takes a deep breath, slowly blinking his eyes open. It’s barely past 4:30 am, his alarm clock screeching on top of the bedside table. Stiles sleeps obliviously beside him, snoring quietly against the crook of Derek’s arm. 

The man is warm and pliant, his heartbeat deep and steady, scent soft and musky with slumber. It honestly makes Derek want to burrow in, to drape an arm across Stiles’ hips and scoot him so much closer, letting them both continue dreaming.

Pity he can’t. He yawns, gently prying Stiles’ body away from him and guiding the man’s head to his pillow before reaching for his phone. The alarm quietens with a sweep, and Derek can’t help but drop back to the bed for a couple minutes, basking in the slow gathering of his own awareness.

He’s been able to do it for years now, to sleep peacefully, to awake slowly, steadily, without the need to immediately be on alert. The only emergencies he gets anymore are the normal kind, the kind where Stiles will wake him up at three am to get milkshakes because he’s craving one, and he has to get one  _ now _ .

Admitting defeat, he rises as quietly as he can and heads downstairs to put his expensive coffee machine on. The smell of grinding espresso beans will never not smell good.

When Derek had come back to Beacon Hills with Stiles and Boyd in tow whom had just graduated college, he’d decided to look more carefully into the plots and companies his parents had once owned. There had been quite a few factories, apartments, empty house plots and deserted warehouses that he hadn’t been aware of before delving in on the true amount of his inheritance.

As he did the rounds to check up on all of the properties, he fell in love with a small bankrupt bakery that held a living space upstairs. It took Stiles and Boyd a better part of a year to convince him to do something with the building. And it took even longer to rebuild and design everything.. They renovated and refurbished the place entirely. The bakery itself was almost completely demolished, only leaving a small kitchen behind while most of the remaining space was remodeled into a small cafe. The neighborhood was bare; the long street only holding a couple small businesses, shops and people. Slowly more people and then more shops started trickling in, seduced by the baked goods of Derek’s own little bakery. And now that they’re four years down the line, their success seems to just keep climbing.

So on most days, Derek wakes up at four thirty to start the ovens and the coffee maker and  change the daily breakfast menu. A little before six am, he goes back upstairs to lure Stiles out of bed to help him offer breakfast to the tired truckers that park and sleep two plots over at the truck parking lot, as well as the early birds that are either going to work or returning from night shift.

It’s surprisingly good business. Their profit keeps rising each year, and by now, they stay open from six to five and employ five other people, much to Derek’s great bafflement. 

Easily striding back upstairs, intentionally squeaking the last step, he hears Stiles groaning from the bed.

‘’Noo,’’ Stiles’ muffled voice slurs in complaint. ‘’Don’t wanna.’’

Their apartment is mostly open. The stairs leading from the back of the bakery to a small foyer, which then unfolds to a spacious apartment, with clean, granite level kitchen with marble floor, cutting off to deep, mahogany wood that covers the rest of the space. The only doors are for the bathroom and the walk-in closet. Everything else was just one big, open room. They’ve only divided the bed from the rest of the apartment with one tall, black Ikea shelf, which they only bought after Scott bitched enough about walking in on the two of them too much.

Derek shakes his head in amusement. Even after all these years, Scott barely relies on his heightened senses, somehow completely oblivious to the world surrounding him.

Crawling back under the covers of the bed, Stiles clamps his whole body to him like an octopus, making Derek huff in delighted fondness. 

‘’Morning,’’ he rasps. 

Stiles’ arms tighten around him. ‘’No,’’ he says mulishly against Derek’s naked chest. ‘’Not a morning. Shh. Sleep. Nighttime now.’’

Drawing the man a little bit closer, Derek settles down for a moment, his hand stroking slowly up and down Stiles’ naked back. After a moment, he cajoles quietly, ‘’C’mon. There’s coffee.’’

‘’B’con?’’

Derek grimaces. ‘’It’s Wednesday.’’

There’s a moment of silence. Then, ‘’Ugh. Porridge.’’

Amused, Derek braves to peek underneath the cover where Stiles’ pillow-creased face is hiding. ‘’I bought maple syrup and vanilla quark just for you.’’

Stiles squints against the light, his brows furrowed, but his scent is more affectionate than anything resembling disgruntled. He heaves a quiet sigh, rolling over before clumsily lifting his arms up in the air. Derek obliges easily, sliding off the bed for more support, and then pulls Stiles up into a sitting position. Stiles doesn’t exactly look happy about it, eyes sliding close, his head hanging low. It’s a daily battle.

Letting Stiles gather his bearings, Derek dresses up in his clothes, presses a kiss to Stiles’ temple and heads back downstairs.

It takes Stiles thirty minutes to get himself ready for the day.  By that point, Derek has started on his pastries, cooked the porridge and managed to make his muffin dough. He dusts his hands for a bit when he hears the familiar floorboards creak, quickly visiting the front counter to make Stiles his morning coffee ready. He leaves the big, steaming mug on the counter where Stiles will see it, retreating back to kitchen. The forecast has foreshadowed rain and thunder that day even though the sky looks clear still, and Derek figures things might get busy later on. He decides to tackle another croissant dough. He knows filled croissants seem to appeal to the masses more when the weather turns cold.

A little while later, fifteen minutes or so before opening, Stiles pops into the kitchen.

‘’Hey. Do you know where those lunch coupons went from yesterday? They’re not in the till.’’

Derek pulls out fifteen donuts from the oven, sliding them to cool on a rack. ‘’Kira put them underneath the gift cards I think.’’

‘’Oh. Gotcha.’’

He puts in another batch of donuts in before checking the temperature of the frosting sink. He still needs to stir the five different assortments of frostings, add some more mass to the double chocolate icing and weigh his muffin dough. Quirking an eyebrow, he looks back at Stiles who’s still standing in the doorway.

‘’What?’’

The man shakes his head. ‘’Nothing. You just look really sexy right now.’’

Looking down at himself, Derek snorts, a little incredulously. ‘’Covered in flour and sugar and sweat is making me look good in your eyes?’’

Stiles shrugs, offering a small, fond smile. ‘’You always look sexy to me, wolfman.’’

Seeing the bits of loose flour on his hand, Derek flips them in Stiles’ direction. ‘’Get out of here,’’ he grumbles. Stiles obliges, laughing as he goes.

After a moment of bustling around, Derek goes back to the front. Stiles has flipped the lights on, currently proceeding in putting all chairs down. Together they work through all of the customer space ready, Derek writing his menu up for the day on the chalkboards up over the counter and Stiles getting their till ready and switching on their cold vitrines with their bottled sodas.

‘’Is the breakfast menu ready?’’

Derek grunts, writing the last of the prices.

‘’Cool. I’m opening then,’’ Stiles says, and heads to the front door where a couple people seem to already be milling around. 

It still fills Derek with humbleness that all of these people are supporting him by showing up at six in the morning to buy their breakfast from his bakery, even sometimes waiting for more than half an hour for their baked goods. Even more so, when a Dunkin Donuts opened two blocks away from them six months ago. It had increased their profit for that month, people showing up just to spite a multi-chain corporation by buying from a tiny local vendor.

Letting Stiles take care of the customers, Derek goes back to his favorite domain. 

It’s another couple hours before he deems his stock okay for him to take a break. Manning the front, Stiles is speaking to a customer while the kid they’d hired a couple months ago is packaging up an order. It’s almost 9:30, and the lunchtime rush is soon to start, customers ordering up the last of the breakfast menu.

Stiles notices him immediately and motions him to wait. Derek leans back, content. He likes taking his breaks with Stiles. He doesn’t have to sit alone in silence and eat, but he doesn’t have to contribute to the conversation much either. Of course, Stiles’ own job as the sheriff keeps him busy most of the days, so managing a luncheon together is sometimes impossible.

‘’Hey,’’ Stiles says, when he comes over after sending the woman away, ‘’Hungry?’’

Nodding, Derek places his hand on the small of Stiles’ back, gently guiding him towards the stairs. ‘’There’s still leftover lasagna.’’

Stiles groans. ‘’Man, I love leftover lasagna. Are you gonna heat it over in a pan?’’

‘’Sure.’’

‘’Awesome,’’ Stiles breathes, turning to place a kiss on the scruff of Derek’s beard. Then the man’s arm sneaks to grab Derek’s waist, bringing him as close as he can without them stopping or tripping over themselves. It fills Derek’s chest with warmth. He echoes the position.

‘’How much time do you think you have, before the rush hour starts?’’

Derek considers this, letting Stiles climb up the stairs in front of him. ‘’Another thirty minutes or so.’’ The front door is unlocked to the apartment as they step in, the noise from the bakery muffling out as he closes the door behind him.

Stiles is silent for a moment, so Derek raises a brow in quiet askance as the man jumps to sit on one of the stools surrounding their kitchen table. It’s more of a narrow, high bar table, built to separate the kitchen just slightly from the other space.

Shrugging as an lieu of an answer to his silence, Stiles grins. ‘’I just really wanna blow you before I have to dress up and leave for work.’’

Derek smirks. ‘’The woman from earlier came too strongly onto you, huh?’’

‘’Nope,’’ Stiles grumbles, ‘’All she did was ask about you, gushing about your food and whatnot, and then made not so subtle attempts at trying to wring your phone number out of me. The most unsubtle attempts. Like ridiculously unsubtle. Then your sexy ass decided to show up and I swear to God, even  _ I  _ could smell her rising excitement. It was horrible.’’

‘’The scent was a bit pungent,’’ Derek allows. He could smell it even from afar. The only reason he was approaching at all was to gauge the situation, whether Stiles needed a getaway or not. There has been quite many attempts of men and women vying for either of their attention. There’s a list in Stiles’ office of the people they have had trouble with in the past. All of them are just a hairwidth away from a restraining order. The list is pinned to the whiteboard in big, red and bold letters so that everyone knows exactly who to bring to his office if they’re ever arrested so Stiles has a plausible reason to give them hell.

‘’Right?’’ Stiles says. ‘’God, I hope she won’t be one of the new succubi that swept in recently. There’s a lot of people finding safe haven in here since the Mill’s clan decided to eradicate every single non-human in their territory. Allison’s attempts at truce talks have turned moot so far.’’

‘’She didn’t smell like a succubus,’’ Derek offers. Stiles leans against the palms of his hands, watching as Derek starts heating up their lunch.

‘’Good,’’ Stiles says. ‘’I’d hate to drive anyone out of town for touching what’s mine, especially when they’re already on the run from someone. And speaking of. There’s been an odd influx of hunters circling the preserve in the past few weeks.’’

‘’Ah,’’ Derek nods. He’d scented other people while jogging through his favorite trails, but all of them had smelled like plain human. Not wolfsbane. But it’s not a problem to wash away the scent of the aconite and stake out the situation, throwing any wolves off their game. ‘’Hunters?’’

‘’Mm. It’s. . . Odd. They’re not setting up traps and they don’t seem like they’re actively hunting anyone. Just. . . Circling around, I guess.’’

Derek hums. ‘’That does sound odd.’’

‘’Yeah. Jordan’s been pulling longer days because of it, trying to see what they’re up to. We ID’d a few of them from the surveillance cameras you’ve set up in your old house, but they aren’t from any of the big clans; just the regular, ‘you respect me, I respect you’ kind of people that aren’t holding onto any specific territory.’’

Mulling the information over for a moment, Derek pushes a glass to Stiles, grabbing drinks from the refrigerator. It  _ is  _ odd, the whole situation. With his years as an alpha, he’s had, at most, three to four people asking him for sanctuary in a year. Within the past two months, that statistic has grown to a  _ hundred _ . Most of them are merely passing by, not wanting to settle in such a small town, but sixteen people have started to grow roots in Derek’s territory, or at least in the very near vicinity of it.

He isn’t worried about it, since most of them are families, but the hunters coming after them are another thing entirely. He’s grown to love the peace and quiet after the clusterfuck of their earliest years, and the advancing threat level is doing miserable things to his feeling of safety.

‘’Maybe they’re searching for something?’’ he asks after a moment, gently scooping the lasagna onto the pan, reveling in the mouthwatering smell of the spices and the meat.  _ God _ , is he hungry.

Stiles makes a ‘maybe’ sound in the back of his throat. Then he sighs. ‘’Well, whatever this weird thing is, it means longer days for me. And more paperwork if people are starting to get hurt or end up dead. So. Super.’’

Derek shakes his head in gross amusement. ‘’You’ll figure it out. You always do.’’

There’s a scrape of a chair and then moments later Derek feels Stiles’ arms wrapping around his waist. The heat of the man’s body nestles against his back, cool lips against the nape of his neck a balm to his restless nerves. ‘’Yeah. We’ll try,’’ Stiles says into the back of his neck. ‘’In the meantime, you should probably keep your eyes and ears open, avoid going through the preserve’s territory lines alone. Keep your phone charged and with you.’’

Derek nods. ‘’You too. You’ll stay safe. No rushing headlong into stupid plans, alright?’’

‘’Hey now,’’ Stiles pouts, ‘’My plans are top notch. I - ‘’

Derek rolls his eyes, having heard the spiel more than two dozen times. ‘’I know, I know. You graduated a year early with honors, saved a bunch of FBI guys from a painful, certain death because you were too nosy and couldn’t keep your hands out of any of the secret missions you eavesdropped on.’’

With a snort, Stiles releases him, taking a step back. ‘’Yeah, and don’t you forget that. My teachers were so appalled when I told them that I’d applied for a sheriff’s position in a small town California, abandoning all the government’s national security stations. All those hours of training and none of them went into stuff they’d envisioned for me.’’

With a shrug, Derek splits the lasagna into two portions and follows Stiles to the table. ‘’You went back and forth between their base and here whenever they called you, and you  _ still  _ help them out occasionally. They have nothing to complain about.’’

‘’Thanks,’’ Stiles says as he sits down and accepts his plate. ‘’I know. I hate those trips to Quantico. They always take up so much of my time. Ugh. Weeks and weeks of not seeing you is absolute  _ torture _ .’’

‘’Yeah,’’ he agrees heartily. Stiles’ absence always leaves him reeling and unanchored, his chest heavy with heartache. It had all been miserable at the beginning of their relationship, the months of not seeing and being able to touch Stiles something aching to physical torture. He’d imagined scenarios of Stiles finding someone better, someone less broken than him, leaving him with nothing but a shrug and a ‘sorry’. It was unfair and gross to think about Stiles like that, especially knowing how loyal the Stilinski men are, and how deeply Stiles loves the few people he does.

For years, Derek had waited for the other shoe to drop. For Stiles to either get fed up with him personally, grow tired of Derek’s inability to express his needs or the,  _ then _ , overflowing list of bad triggers of his barely manageable PTSD. He’d been deeply terrified of Stiles wanting to get away from the supernatural aspect of his life, of  _ Derek _ , and had had more than enough of panic attacks after every single monster showdown, thinking  _ this  _ is going to be the final breaking point for Stiles. Extensive therapy has done its job though, even if he had to go through  _ twelve therapists  _ before he found a one he could trust, and now, after ten years of being together, he only gets that irrational fear of Stiles leaving once or twice a year if they fight badly.

He’s accustomed to Stiles aggressively hugging him when they’re arguing and ready tear into each other. It was something he once let slip out after a therapy session that, despite the fact that they’re fighting, he  _ needs  _ to know that they’re okay, that he can touch Stiles and hold him and not be afraid of either of them running out of the house only to never return.

He’d experienced that already once with Laura. He doesn’t want a repeat performance.

‘’When’s your shift starting?’’ he asks, knocking his knee with Stiles’. It makes the other man smile affectionately before stuffing his face.

‘’Jordan’s gonna pop by before we go, but I’ll have to change clothes in. . .’’ Stiles peeks at his watch. ‘’Forty minutes. Give or take.’’

‘’And you’ll be back after nine-ish?’’

‘’Yeah, that about.’’

‘’Okay,’’ Derek nods. ‘’I’ll talk to Kira when she comes on to her shift, and maybe we can arrange some sort of info package to everyone in the pack. Let them know what’s going on.’’

Stiles hums in agreement, scarfing down his meal with alarming speed. ‘’Anf the ofthers,’’ he mumbles through chews of food. ‘’Gofta let eferyone know whaft to loofk for.’’

‘’Sure.’’

Stiles finishes his plate before Derek has a chance to get even halfway through his own. He watches, amused, as Stiles rushes to push his dishes into the sink, but Derek eventually gets distracted by the beeps of his phone, signaling multiple incoming texts. 

He’s tapping a reply to his fresh produce vendor when he feels Stiles’ hands grabbing the thick of his thighs, and looks up just to see the man kneel down in front of him. The heat of Stiles’ palms sends tingling waves throughout his body, the man’s eyes dark with lust as he rubs his thumbs seductively against Derek’s inner thigh, near his groin.

‘’What are you doing?’’ he asks, arousal pooling into the pit of his belly. He sets his phone on the table where the half-typed message fades to black.

‘’Thanking my boyfriend for making us lunch,’’ Stiles replies with a lick of his lips. ‘’I think he deserves to be thanked  _ thoroughly _ .’’

Derek hums, spreading his legs more comfortably. 

With a grin, Stiles gently starts massaging the muscle underneath his hands. Sparks of pleasure shoot up Derek’s spine when Stiles’ dexterous fingers wander near his soft cock that is perking up with the attention.

Stiles blinks up slowly, looking from under his long lashes. ‘’Can I?’’ he asks, trailing up his fingers to play at the zipper of Derek’s pants.

‘’Yeah,’’ Derek breathes, wiggling a little. ‘’Yeah, do it.’’

Not wasting any time, Stiles pushes his face against the fabric, nuzzling his cock. He lowers the zipper and pushes the tight jeans open enough that he can reach inside. Derek’s going commando today, not having bothered to put on any underwear in the morning, which makes Stiles give a hungry sound from the back of his throat.

‘’Mm, love you,’’ Stiles mumbles, tugging the jeans further open and pulls out Derek’s half-hard dick. 

Stiles’ hands are still warm, getting warmer the headier the scent of Stiles’ arousal grows, healthy flush pinking the man’s cheeks. 

‘’Love you too,’’ Derek manages in response, groaning softly when Stiles’ hot mouth circles the soft tissue of his cock. He bucks instinctively from the first touch, arching just a tad off the chair. It feels good, sparks soothing up his spine as he gets harder and harder.

Stiles sucks and licks, coming up to tease the sensitive head, flicking his tongue over the slit deliciously. He’s hard, too. Derek can tell, smells it in the air and can confirm it by the bulge of Stiles’ pants.

‘’Mm, Stiles - That’s, right there,  _ oh _ ,’’ he inhales sharply at the suckle of the head of his cock. The clever fingers wander inside the tight space that his jeans create, gently caressing his twitching balls, coyly playing at the edge of his hole. 

Stiles gives out a filthy moan when he takes Derek’s leaking cock deep into his throat and swallows around it. Derek can only stutter helplessly, hips thrusting against the sensation. Drops of precum and drool dribble down the side of Stiles’ mouth, which Derek scoops up and puts in his own mouth. The taste is bitter, it’s always bitter, but it’s Stiles and it’s them and it’s  _ good _ .

‘’M’lready close,’’ he mumbles breathlessly. He buries his hands in Stiles’ hair and pushes, knowing Stiles can take it. The man  _ loves  _ it. In Stiles’ list of fan-fucking-tastic sex things rimming and giving head are his two favorite things to do. And he’s frustratingly amazing at both of those things, so enthusiastic and down for both of the acts whenever and wherever.

Stiles pulls up, heaving gulps of air before he says with a throaty rasp, ‘’I have a meeting with alpha Javatlena today. Do you want to come in my mouth and let me swallow every single drop of your cum, or do you want to come onto my face and rub all of it into my skin, letting everyone know just who we belong to?’’

With a whine, Derek grabs the base of his cock and closes his eyes. ‘’Jesus, Stiles. Your fucking  _ mouth _ , and all that filth that comes out of it -- ‘’

‘’So let me swallow?’’

With a red flare of his eyes, Derek shakes his head. ‘’I want to -- On your face. And chest.’’

‘’Cool beans,’’ Stiles grins, and starts back up a relentless pace of his mouth, bopping and licking with filthy wet sounds. Derek’s already close, so fucking close, and as Stiles jacks up one more time and pulls at his balls at the same time, he tips over the edge with a strangled groan.

Stiles pulls off and aims the shoot of come onto his face, not giving up the hard and fast movement of his hand. Derek’s hips twitch and arch as he becomes over sensitive, tipping Stiles off so he backs up and lets his dick go. 

He slumps, leaning slightly against their table as he gathers his breath. When he deems himself ready, he drops down to his knees with a hiss, pulling Stiles into a hungry kiss. Stiles returns it happily, content to deepen it as Derek works on his jeans to pull his rock hard dick out of his boxer briefs.

‘’Won’t last -- ‘’ Stiles says against his lips at the first touch, bucking against Derek’s hand. 

Humming in response, Derek drags both of the garments off the man’s body, revealing his bare bottom to the world. Stiles shivers against the cool of the marmor floor but spreads his legs obligingly when Derek nudges them apart. 

‘’You gonna make me come, big guy?’’ Stiles asks, biting his lips.

‘’Gonna make you scream,’’ Derek agrees. He bends Stiles in two, making the man yelp and then moan, as Derek brings his hands to separate his cheeks to uncover his hole. ‘’Gonna make you so wet, Stiles. Wet and dripping and I’m gonna devour it all -- ‘’

He starts kissing up the man’s taint, suckling his twitching hole, licking the sensitive rim. Stiles squirms, panting, holding up his legs himself to give easier access.

Derek hums in appreciation, the vibrations of it forcing a thick droplet of precum to emerge from Stiles’ cock. 

‘’Hnng, Derek, right there,  _ fuck _ , can you --  _ Deeper _ , big guy, please --’’ Derek thrusts his tongue inside, licking into him. He kisses the bumpy skin that circles the taint, nipping the skin gently before soothing it with his mouth. He sucks at his hole, lavishing it with broad, long strokes of his tongue, moving up all the way to the base of his cock before coming back down. He pulls and fondles Stiles’ sore balls. They’re still a little red from last night. 

It doesn’t take long. Stiles is already riding high his pleasure, and when Derek gives just a couple light spanks to his ass, the orgasm seems to tear through Stiles’ system as he shoots  his come with a high arch of his back. Derek prolongs his pleasure as long as he can, taking the head of his cock into his mouth when it seems like Stiles is finally done coming.

Their semen mixes where it smears against Stiles’ chest. Derek lowers Stiles’ legs gently down, giving them a quick rub down to prevent soreness, and then plasters himself along Stiles’ front, kneading both of their come into their skin.

‘’ ‘s so gross,’’ Stiles snorts affectionately, his heart skipping on the lie. Derek just offers him a grin and kisses him gently on the lips, wiping more of the semen off his face and licking his hand clean. Stiles’ arms come to circle him, hugging him closer.

‘’The floor’s pretty hard, dude,’’ Stiles says a moment later, shifting his weight. ‘’I think my tailbone might get bruised if we keep snuggling on the floor.’’

Derek sighs, deep and longing. ‘’We have to get to work.’’

‘’Noo, that’s not at all what I mean,’’ Stiles whines. ‘’I meant that we should definitely take the post coital cuddling to our comfortable, soft  _ bed _ . Not work.  _ Derek _ .’’

Smirking, Derek hauls Stiles up, helping the man balance himself when his legs turn to be jelly, and kisses his mouth. ‘’We’ll have time later. Come on. We don’t want to be late. Wouldn’t want to disappoint alpha Javatlena for not being on time.’’

‘’You’re evil,’’ Stiles mutters, pinching his nipple. ‘’But I love you for it. God damn it.’’

Derek offers a small smile, pleased and content. ‘’Love you too. Now come on. Let’s iron out your uniform.’’

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Taking a sweep over the kitchen, Derek makes a mental note to calculate his inventory somewhere next month. It’s best done a day or two before a big delivery so that the stocks are as low as they go without running out, making it easier and faster to count everything.

‘’Hey,’’ Kira greets him as she breezes in, pulling him to a brief sideways hug. ‘’You’re free to go. It’s already two o’clock.’’

‘’Huh.’’ Derek accepts the touch and leans into it for a moment. ‘’Things look okay in the front?’’

‘’Mm-hm,’’ Kira hums in reply, detaching herself to go wash her hands. ‘’There wasn’t any rush when I came in. Do you have any dough defrosting right now? The vitrine was looking a little empty.’’

‘’Yeah. I put out dough for 30 donuts an hour or so ago, so you should be able to bake them now. I managed to do some of your deli foods for you, so there are fifteen filled croissants in the refrigerator and about eight cups of peach mousse. Liam is staying overtime for an hour to refill the stocks since the weather has turned pretty dark with rain, so you won’t have to panic over that during the evening.’’

‘’Thank you.’’ She dries her hands and starts poking around a little. ‘’Was the oven okay this morning? I didn’t know how much of the cleaning foam I was supposed to put in. When I called Stiles to ask, he babbled something about making a winter wonderland out of the interior, so I just, uh, kinda put a lot of the stuff in.’’

‘’It was fine,’’ Derek nods. ‘’I usually use two bottles worth, but what you put in was okay.’’

‘’Oh!  _ That  _ much? Wow, really? Well, I’ll know next time,’’ she says, grabbing an empty piece of paper and going through the work list Derek has managed to do so far. Derek checks some more of the items off of it and jots down a couple things he knows are running low by now. 

‘’How’s your thesis going?’’

Kira shrugs. ‘’It’s a slow process. It’s coming along, but, you know. ‘S hard. I was never really good at studying. Like, I love to learn and this is the kind of stuff I’m really into, you know, but actually writing, editing, sourcing, researching. . . Not easy, at all.’’

‘’I remember,’’ Derek nods. ‘’Took me a year to finish mine and even then, I wasn’t really happy with it. But I didn’t really have a chance to redo it, since I had to come back to Beacon Hills. Though I had no problem with the writing part. Peter was a pretty good tutor when he wanted to be, so all of us kids got pretty good grades all the time.’’

Looking up from her list, she frowns at him. ‘’Stiles has told me your thesis is amazing.’’

Derek shrugs. ‘’It’s nothing to brag about.’’ He can see the doubt in Kira’s expression and has to duck his face to hide it. ‘’Stiles is biased.’’

With a snort, Kira punches his arm. ‘’True, but you also are very good at putting yourself and your abilities down. You’ll have to let me read your work and let me form my own opinion.’’

‘’Sure,’’ Derek agrees easily. ‘’I think I have the original copy somewhere, but it’s also saved as a PDF in Stiles’ computer. If you ask him, he’ll probably be happy to send it to you.’’

Kira hums, jotting down last of her thoughts, satisfied once she has gone through the whole kitchen. ‘’I think I’ll be able to handle things from here. Your shift ended ten minutes ago.’’

‘’Eager to drive me out of my own bakery?’’

Kira laughs, bright and clear. ‘’Yes, you workaholic. You spend enough time here as it is, there’s no need to pall yourself full enough that coming down to work will become a chore you know? You and Stiles both work too much.’’

Derek shrugs good naturedly. He knows it’s a little bit about being in control of his own surroundings, his life. Both him and Stiles has spent entirely too many years fighting to gain back the feeling of being in control of their own bodies, of holding the position of power regarding their own decisions. Stiles found his confidence while training at the academy, handling and solving cases with a professionality of a veteran agent. He was the head of his own team, and every time they went out on a mission, he made sure that everyone came back alive above all else. The lingering effects of the Nogitsune had disappeared entirely by the time he’d graduated, with only the occasional nightmare plaguing Stiles’ dreams.

Derek, on the other hand, had settled into his own skin after he and Stiles had started dating. His transformation hadn’t been as drastic and apparent as Stiles’, nor for similar reasons, but core-shaking nonetheless. Who knew refusing sex, and have his partner accept the fact without demanding any reasons for it would be the catalyst that started his slow but ongoing process of healing from his past?

He unties the apron hanging from his hips and pulls it off. ‘’You’ll be okay?’’ he asks, ignoring the jab about his workaholic ways.

‘’Yeah,’’ Kira confirms. ‘’We’ll be fine. Go enjoy some fresh air.’’

Derek does.

  
  


***

  
  


He hasn’t been in the grocery store for more than ten minutes when he feels likes he’s being followed. He’s intimately familiar with the acid smell of aconite and hatred, knows the pattern of a hunter approaching their target while trying to be discreet about it. He’s able to spot a concealed firearm easily even without its pungent smell, knows by the lightness of one’s step if they’re hiding a knife in their boot. Derek doesn’t stop browsing the frozen broccoli to check, but he tracks the two men from his peripheral vision, his hackles raised. He tenses his muscles in anticipation, coiled to flee within the inch of his life if necessary.

He catalogs the men quickly. Both are white, middle-aged men, balding and wrinkled, though both of them are about the size of a brickhouse. They’re taller than him, which makes him more wary than the sheer size of their muscles, because their height gives them annoying advantage.

There’s a very small percentage of hunters that aren’t familiar with Derek’s face and the tragedy of his family, and these two do not belong to that subgroup. They bracket Derek seemingly innocently between them, browsing innocuously the frozen peas and carrots.

‘’Derek Hale,’’ one of them murmurs under his breath. ‘’We’d like to ask you to put your basket on the ground, slowly, and then walk out of the store and come quietly with us. We require your... Assistance.’’

He feels the barrel of a gun on his side, hears the man cock it. It makes him grit his teeth. His hands are shaking. He hasn’t been this close to a threat in  _ years _ . Taking a step back, he extracts himself from between the hunters. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ he apologizes with a glint of his canines as a warning, ‘’My family has made it to me adamantly clear that I shouldn’t go alone with strangers.’’

The other man’s hand comes to swiftly grab at his arm, gripping it punishingly tightly. ‘’Good thing you don’t have any family left then, to intervene in our... Request.’’

Derek bares his teeth and wrenches his hand away. ‘’Excuse me,’’ he hisses, sidestepping another attempt at caging him in. ‘’I cannot be of  _ assistance  _ to either of you. But I’d suggest you keep the fuck away from me and my friends, or else the only help you’ll need is for your friends to carry your dead weight back home in a bodybag.’’

He turns on his heels, speed walking away. He hates turning his back on his enemy, such a clear show of vulnerability, but he knows neither will open fire in a public place no matter how much they’d like to. The only saving grace the hunters seem to have is that they blend in with the common folk, and drawing attention to oneself is to commit social suicide. Social media is too quick to capture things into a recording these days, and nobody wants to be branded as a murderer by the whole world. Even if Derek thinks all of them  _ are  _ murderers, but since he’s the one being hunted, he argues that his point of view might be biased.

And there are beings that are entirely evil and deserving of death, like ghouls and wendigos that do not hold any kind of brain capacity for empathy. Their only goal is to feed and repopulate their species, and they will do it at the expense of other people’s lives.

‘’We’ll persuade you yet, Hale,’’ the other says, probably only audible to Derek. ‘’You  might come to regret not doing this the easy way.’’ 

Derek grinds his teeth together and keeps walking, ignoring the threat. He’ll have to swing by the station and let Stiles know what’s going on. At least he’ll have descriptions of the two of them, neither hiding their faces nor scars that both have decorating their visible skin. Though this’ll  mean he and Stiles will have to do a grocery run later in the night in the gas station that stays open until eleven, and even then they can only get the necessary essentials, like milk and eggs. Maybe he won’t have to bear Stiles’ smug glee of not having to drink Derek’s health juice first thing in the morning.

As quickly as he can, he jumps into his Toyota, blowing out a nervous huff as he locks himself in. He’s glad he chose this particular car today instead of his ever loyal Camaro. The Corolla is registered under Stiles’ name and it blends in within the other vehicles in the parking lot. He hunkers down, grabbing Stiles’ cap from the passenger seat and pulls it over his head. 

Ten minutes later the two men come out with no shoppings, glancing furtively around. They don’t seem to find what they’re looking for, and relax, walking towards a hunter favored SUV. Derek taps the license plate down in his phone’s notes section for Stiles to run. He waits for another five minutes for the hunters to leave before he makes his own departure.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Stiles is sitting in his office, calmly going through some paperwork when Derek reaches the station. Derek thinks that Stiles still looks absolutely delectable in his uniform, despite having seen it on him enough times within the past six years. The shirt hugs his shoulders tightly, the strength of his upper body visible by the bulging of his muscles. The sheriff badge snapped to his chest glimmers brightly, always clean and polished, like he’s honoring both his father and the citizens by taking care of it. Stiles perks up when he walks in, grin starting to curve his mouth upwards before it falls abruptly.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ Stiles demands, standing up and pulling Derek into a hug when he gets close enough.

‘’I had a run-in with some hunters,’’ Derek murmurs, his pounding heart slowing steadily as he inhales Stiles’ comforting scent.

‘’A run-in -- Did they  _ hurt  _ you?’’ 

Derek shakes his head. ‘’No. They wanted something from me  _ specifically  _ though. They knew me by name.’’

Stiles ushers him to sit onto the sheriff’s comfortable chair, gentle hands checking him over. ‘’Where did you see them?’’

‘’In the grocery store just now,’’ Derek replies, letting Stiles manipulate his limbs to his wish. He knows he’d be doing the same thing to him if their roles were reversed. He offers up his hand, pushing the sleeve up. There are red fingermarks on his skin where he didn’t let himself heal. ‘’If you want photo evidence?’’

‘’Damn right, I do,’’ Stiles frowns. He studies the mark with an angry scowl and pulls up his phone to take pictures. ‘’Did you manage to get any names? Identifying marks or register plates?’’

‘’No names, no. Two white men, both probably in their late fifties, I’d say, closer to sixty than fifty. Both were in black, regular hunter gear, and had more than three concealed weapons each. The other one smelled like a cat and had cat hair on his clothes. He also had a scar above his left eye, the hair of his eyebrows singed away almost entirely. Bald otherwise. The other had two visible scars on his face, like whoever tried killing him, tried to claw his brains out out of his skull. The claw marks were on both temples, reaching down to his neck. He was bald too, stank a lot like he’d drank a whole damn  bar.’’

Stiles purses his lips and hums. ‘’Anything else?’’

‘’I got their license plate number. It’s a black SUV, similar to Chris’. No bumper stickers or outward signs of damage on the vehicle, but, uh, I think I saw a confederate flag attached to their rearview mirror.’’

Stiles stills, his scent plummeting into bitterness that Derek has always associated with wariness and fury, each in equal measure with him. ‘’That’s... Odd. For them to be so brazen about their identities. Did they tell you what they wanted from you?’’

Derek shakes his head. ‘’They wanted ‘assistance’ on something. Didn’t have time nor patience to get into details with what their gun poking me on my side,’’ he says dryly.

‘’They threatened you with their guns. Inside a grocery store. In the middle of the day,’’ Stiles repeats incredulously. ‘’That makes it seem that they’re getting pretty desperate to get what they’re after. If hunters get that comfortable bringing heavy weapons into a damn supermarket while humans are around… We might be walking into more trouble than it’s worth.’’

Frowning, Derek pulls Stiles into his lap to ground himself. ‘’Have you and Jordan gotten any closer as to finding out what’s going on in the preserve?’’

‘’Nope,’’ Stiles sighs, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, situating himself comfortably. They probably shouldn’t be doing this while the blinds are open and everyone can see into the office, but Stiles seems to not care in the least. ‘’The entire situation is bizarre from our nd perspective, because we’re used to people aggressively wanting to either kill us and leave, or kill us  _ and  _ take our land. These people are doing neither.’’

‘’No, but they are after  _ something _ . And they think I can help them find it.’’

Stiles mulls this over for a moment while he fiddles with his phone. There are gaps which they have no idea how to fill. It would help if they could intimidate one of the hunters into talking, but that would force their hand into an attack, rather than the quiet defensiveness they’re having at the moment. The less aggression they create, the better the chances are for survival.

‘’I’ll have to call Allison,’’ Stiles says. ‘’See if she or Chris have found anything out. I’ll also run the plate, see if it’ll give us any identities rather than just a car rental.’’ He bends himself a little, checking the time from the clock on the office wall. ‘’It’s already almost four. Hm.’’

‘’Want me to stick around for awhile?’’ Derek asks tentatively, wanting to stay himself, but unsure if Stiles would like him to. ‘’I could go grab us some food from the mini market a street over, help you research some?’’

Stiles nods. ‘’Yeah. That could work.’’ He turns his head to properly look Derek into his eyes, gauging his mood. ‘’You sure you won’t get bored or something?’’

‘’I’d rather be bored out of my skull than be knee deep into bloodshed and violence,’’ Derek confesses. Stiles concedes his point and kisses him softly on the lips.

‘’We’ll figure things out,’’ Stiles promises. ‘’I’ll put a couple calls through, sweep up some info of the car and we’ll see where that takes us. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.’’

Closing his eyes against the gentle fingers carding through his hair, Derek kisses Stiles back. ‘’Thank you,’’ he says, burying his nose into Stiles’ hair, inhaling his masculine scent. ‘’I have my laptop in my car, I can get some work done too.’’

‘’Let me get someone go get that for you . . .’’

  
  
  


****

 

When they reach home several hours later than they intended, the brewing storm has expanded, covering the entire town in rainstorm. The drops tap softly on the window sill, gently knocking against the glass.

Derek dries his hair with a towel as Stiles claims the shower, listening to the muffled sounds of the storm raging outside. It’s an unlikely source of peace. He’s always favored winter rather than summer, finding the cool weather much more soothing and nurturing than the scorching heat of the summer sun. 

With a sigh, he undresses, getting his soppy clothes into a hamper in the mudroom. Not bothering to go find any spare pajama bottoms, he drops down to the couch naked, lifting his feet up and letting himself sink deep into the cushions. Closing his eyes, he relaxes.

Stiles finds him moments later and drops on top of him, clad only in his boxers. ‘’Hey,’’ he greets Derek quietly. ‘’Whatcha thinking?’’

‘’Nothing much,’’ Derek mumbles. ‘’Just tired.’’

Stiles groans. ‘’Me too. God. I feel like I could sleep through an earthquake and not wake up from it.’’

Bringing his arms to hug Stiles firmly against his chest, Derek nods. ‘’It’s been so long since we had any trouble. It’s… It’s harder than I thought it would be. Resolving things, I mean.’’

‘’Yeah. Last time was, huh. Three years ago? With those salamanders that tried crossing through town. And even then they had just lost their trail since they couldn’t see in daylight.’’

‘’I think since you healed the Nemeton and activated the wards around it, we hadn’t had anything dangerous crossing into our territory.’’

Snuggling closer into Derek’s neck, Stiles hums. ‘’Yeah. But the wards fend off  _ supernatural  _ grey energy. You know? It can’t physically stop anyone from coming, but my magic strongly suggests them to either turn back or circle around the town. Humans are a different ball game altogether since their inherent magic is down close to nil.’’

Derek gently traces the knobs of Stiles’ spine. ‘’You didn’t know hunters would team up like this and suddenly flood in. There were no signs of any of this back then. It’s not your fault.’’

‘’I just wish I knew what they  _ want.  _ Are they after a rogue supe? Are they trying to set up traps for all of us and murder us? Are they under a spell and doing whatever it is that the person controlling them wants them to? Or are they, like, looking for a goddamn treasure at the end of the rainbow or something?’’ Stiles exclaims. ‘’There’s been so much controversy in the hunter community over the past three years, everyone dividing into their own teams. You know?’’ He drags his arm up enough that his hand is in the line of Derek’s vision. He starts listing off with his fingers, ‘’There are the supernatural sympathisers, the white nationalists, the don’t-mess-with-us-we-won’t-mess-with-you’s, the profiters and the crazy ones that mostly only capture supes in order to torture them. They’re all in their own subgroups, not wanting to associate with each other if they don’t have to since their views differ, but right now? We have all sorts of these people mixed. They’re communicating and cooperating together, and we don’t know  _ why _ .’’

A thunder strikes then, close and booming, startling them. The rain starts falling heavier against the iron roof of the building, the sound almost deafening.

‘’Shit,’’ Stiles swears, rising up to his elbows to peer to the side, staring out of the window. A flash of lighting crackles near them, illuminating the sky with white light for a couple seconds.

Derek blinks slowly, listening to the wind speed up as it howls through the trees, another thunder brewing above them. ‘’Well,’’ he says quietly, tightening his hold on Stiles as a new lighting strikes, snapping the electricity and forcing the room into darkness. ‘’I don’t think we need to worry about their intentions right now. I don’t think there’ll be anyone stalking through the forest in a weather like this.’’

‘’Probably not,’’ Stiles whispers back. ‘’They’re persistent, but not actively suicidal.’’ Then he sighs. ‘’We should probably go to bed then. Grab a few z’s. If the storm blows out by tomorrow, there will probably be more activity, and we both need to be alert for that. Just in case.’’

‘’Mm,’’ Derek agrees. He kisses Stiles, softly, slowly. ‘’Let’s go to sleep then.’’

‘’Tomorrow’s a new day,’’ Stiles mumbles against his lips. ‘’And what do we say to the god of death?’’

With a snort, Derek pushes Stiles off of him. ‘’ _ Not today _ .’’

  
  
  


****

  
  


A couple days later finds Derek being tailed. He recoils multiple times from the pungent scent of hatred and arousal, an odd combination that smells rotten to his nose. Reminds him viscerally of Kate, and that’s not something he wishes to remember, even a little. The people circle him constantly, having caught up on the fact that he drives two different cars now. 

He’s not personally approached again, but the constant stalking has Derek shaking with anticipation and anxiety. There are triggers that he has that he knows will rear their ugly heads if this tension continues. He hasn’t been to his therapist’s office in more than a year, hasn’t needed her services. But this, this hypervigilant state of mind he’s forced back into is not doing good things to his health. Something that Stiles has noticed as well, if the increased worry is anything to go by.

‘’You could come by the office, if you wanted,’’ Stiles casually says one night. ‘’I wouldn’t mind the company, you know? Especially during my graveyard shifts. It would keep me alert and awake having your sexy self right in front of me the entire time.’’

Derek smirks. ‘’You think you can work your self-restraint and keep your hands to yourself the entire eight hours while you shuffle paperwork around? When you’re  _ bored _ ?’’

With  mischief glinting in his eyes, Stiles tries to hide a grin and fails. ‘’There are always ways to discreetly participate in something… Fun, while I’m clocked in.’’

Humming thoughtfully, Derek taps  his fingers against the table, pushing his empty plate away from him. ‘’Better pack another pair of suit pants then, _sheriff Stilinski_. I _did_ finally download the app into my phone that controls our double vibrators remotely.’’

Stiles’ pupils dilate, and he bites his lip in delight. ‘’Roger that, big guy. I’ll get some extra for you, too. I  _ promise  _ to take my time while getting your vibrator into your sore little hole after I fuck you silly. Make you squirm while I put the device in, maybe suck your filthy hole clean from my cum. Get you nice and wet, mm?’’

With a lick of his lips, Derek leans closer to Stiles, staring at him heatedly. ‘’Oh, I think I could handle that. But if you come while you’re fucking me open, and I don’t, then I reserve the right to edge you with the vibrator as long as I want. Spank your ass so red and sore that you’ll feel it every time you shift on that office chair of yours.’’

‘’Ah, you’d, mm, be edging yourself then, too,’’ Stiles breathes, pushing his palm against the bulge in his pants, relieving some of the pressure.

‘’Who says I won’t be able to come then?’’ Derek grins, a hint of sharp fangs biting into his lower lip. ‘’It’s not the guest sofa that’s facing the deputies cubicles. It’s the sheriff’s table.’’

Stiles groans, and pushes himself up from the chair and into Derek’s lap. ‘’Then come fuck me right now and make me come so many times that the edging will seem like a piece of cake.’’

Hungrily, Derek devours Stiles’ mouth, grabbing his ass and hoisting him up in his arms. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist for support. ‘’I can do that,’’ Derek growls, power-walking to their bed and tossing Stiles onto it. ‘’I promise to make you  _ beg  _ for it to stop. I’ll make you feel so good, Stiles.’’

Stiles doesn’t answer, but pulls Derek on top of him, impatiently trying to undress him. He kisses Derek, licking deep into his mouth. ‘’Then come on, fuck me, mark me, make me  _ yours _ .’’

 

In the morning, Derek rushes to downstairs half an hour late with yesterday’s clothes thrown haphazardly on. It’s only after they’ve opened and Kira comes in that Derek notices he’s wearing Stiles’ uniform shirt, and that it’s inside out.

He’s never been more glad to work in the kitchen and out of sight.

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


A week later.

 

It’s already after nine pm, when Stiles finally pushes the last of his paperwork away. Derek winces in sympathy when the man’s skull hits the tabletop forcefully, with an ominous crack. 

‘’I am  _ done _ ,’’ Stiles groans, slumping in place. ‘’No more work today. Brain dead.’’

Derek closes his laptop where he’d been running searches for Beacon Hill’s treasure history, trying to dig up any leads. He’d come up empty handed though. Even if Stiles had said it jokingly, Derek wanted to check for any unfound treasures in the area. There’s nothing in the town’s history that would indicate any sort of gold mine to be buried anywhere near here, and there was no sign of any supernatural people trying to hide or run from the hunters. It’s frustrating, trying to understand why so many of them are here.

‘’Ready to head home?’’ he asks, sliding the device into its bag.

‘’Yeah. Lemme just grab a cup of coffee from the lounge and we can go. I’ll let Sandy know I’m done for the day.’’

Derek stands up and stretches, grabbing Stiles into a quick, half-hug while he goes past and is pleasantly squeezed back.

‘’Two minutes,’’ Stiles promises, then disappears deeper into the building. 

Derek gathers his stuff and heads out. There’s a temp manning the front who offers a placid wave goodbye, which Derek returns with a nod. The air is crisp and damp, smelling of car exhaust and cooking asphalt. The sun has started to set behind the thick overcast, the rain that had been sweeping over them earlier now gone. The air is still heavy, keeping up with the promise of another nighttime thunderstorm within two weeks span. 

Settling to lean on the brick building, Derek sighs tiredly. He’s entirely too old to be dealing with a long term threat like this. He’d hoped, in vain it seems, that after he’d hit thirty, his life would finally be allowed to slow down. But he’s turning thirty-four this year and there’s still no end in sight for all of the supernatural stirrings that the Nemeton lures in. He’s fed up with all of it. He just wants to  _ live _ , peacefully, with no chances of being kidnapped, tortured, injured or abused in any way. He wants a normal, boring suburb life, wants a house and kids and have Sunday barbecues. Wants to be able to  _ breathe _ .

He wonders if Stiles feels the same way.

Fishing his phone out, he goes through a couple levels of word snack. The phone bleeps it’s annoying music loudly since Derek had somehow managed to break the silencing button, rendering the quiet gaming a moot. He’s still riding high the feeling of security that always comes whenever he’s in close proximity of Stiles, especially when his mood and scent is focused onto one certain outcome. It calms Derek, letting their hearts beat in sync, know that in that moment, they’re safe and together and content.

After ten minutes of no-show from Stiles, Derek gets restless. He slips his phone back into his pocket, finally quieting the device down. Stiles is very easy to draw into a conversation which makes him efficiently forget the time. He’s used to their grocery trips stretching if they meet someone Stiles knows. He’s the sheriff after all, and many people like to stop and just chat with him, lured in by his easy going nature and his tendency to ramble. 

He’s about to go back inside to check the situation, see what’s the hold up, when he hears the sound of a gun cocking. Every muscles in him coils tight like a spring ready to burst, heart jackhammering painfully in his chest. Fervently gazing around, he tries to locate anyone that looks suspicious. He pushes himself bodily against the wall, trying to blend in into the shadows, on the off-chance that the possible assailant hasn’t noticed him. It’s a moot wish though, when two black SUV’s casually roll into the parking lot, their headlights spotting right onto him and his car. He shields his eyes from the suddenly onslaught of light, helpless to do nothing but watch as they box him in.

‘’We did warn you to come quietly with us,’’ a man says, hopping down from a passenger side of one of the vehicles. He’s got a machine gun in his hand, another strapped to his back, and he gives a crooked, yellow grin. It’s the hunter with the scars on both sides of his temples, drawing down to his neck. ‘’Now if you don’t help us, we’ll just blast the head of your town’s sheriff off.’’

As he says it, two men emerge from the station, dragging Stiles in between them. He’s already bruised, nose bleeding profusely down his face. His eye seems swollen, something Derek knows will probably bloom into reds and purples and yellows later. His arms are secured behind his back, though Derek doesn’t see with what. If it’s handcuffs, Stiles will be able to wiggle out of them  no problem, but if they’ve been zipped or taped together, the process might take a lot longer without any helpful tools.

‘’Let him go,’’ he finds himself demanding, terrified. He  _ hates  _ this, he hates it so much. Why are the people around him always getting hurt? It’s starting to feel like a lifelong curse than just mere coincidence. Like the entire universe has decided to take on the responsibility of punishing Derek for all of his life choices.

‘’Nah, don’t think so. He’s our security blanket. You take one single step wrong, and we’ll kill him immediately. We clear?’’

He searches for Stiles’ gaze, needing help. Reassurance.  _ Anything _ . He might be a powerful alpha werewolf, but if he loses Stiles over some foolish little mistake on his part, he will not survive. He  _ needs  _ his anchor, the solid rock for his heart. Without Stiles, he is  _ nothing _ .

Stiles, who’s hanging limply between the two newcomers, meets his eyes calmly and gives a minimal shake of his head.

‘’Wh -- What do you want from me?’’ Derek asks, stalling. He doesn’t know what Stiles is up to, but they’re literally in front of the police station, and there is nobody coming out to see what’s going on despite three big vehicles blocking the entrance with their guns plainly on sight. Something’s not right.

The man with the machine gun pops a stick of gum into his mouth, his expression smug. He smells like liquor and tobacco. ‘’We want you to lead us to the treasure before any of the others get to it. You’re a Hale, you’ll guide us to it no problem, am I right?’’

Derek frowns. He’s just scoured the entire history of Beacon Hills, there’s  _ nothing  _ to  _ find _ . ‘’How am I supposed to know where to go when I don’t even know what you’re looking for?’’

The hunter closes the gap between the two of them so fast that Derek doesn’t even prepare himself for the punch, nor has he any time to block the hit. It doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would, though it knocks him to the ground. He’s gotten worse hits from little wolf kids who roughhoused with him too violently.

The man steps on his chest when he stumbles down on the ground cradling his jaw, and spits, ‘’Peter Hale left a little gift buried in the soils of this town. There’s a vault somewhere in the preserve which holds all of the stolen artifacts he’s managed to gets his dirty little hands on. And a little birdie told us that the last remaining Hale has the keys to both open it and find it. And since Peter Hale has been dead and buried for a decade, you are the only available Hale to do the dirty work for us. And you will do it without complaints, or your little friend over there will lose his life.’’

Derek’s mind reels. He knows his family had multiple vaults all over the town, some of them not even in use, but he has no idea how many there are and where they may lay untouched. And knowing Peter, the scheming, manipulating bastard? The vault is either in an almost impossible to access place, or then it’s booby trapped all the way from top to bottom, or then it point blank doesn’t even fucking exist.

_ Fucking Peter. _

‘’Okay,’’ he coughs, placating, as he takes too long to answer and the hunter forces pressure on his throat. He doesn’t want Stiles more hurt than he is. ‘’Okay. I can - I can get you to it. I’ll do it. I’ll do it.’’

‘’Derek, no!’’ Stiles shouts, struggling where he’s restrained. ‘’If you go with them, we both know they won’t let you come back. Not alive.’’

‘’Shut the fuck up,’’ one of the henchmen snarls, kneeing Stiles in the ribs. ‘’Pawns aren’t meant to have opinions. Stay quiet or I’ll hack your fucking jaw off so you  _ can’t  _ talk.’’

Derek tries to struggle up, to get away from his vulnerable position, but the heavy boot keeps him down. He wants to tear the man’s throat out, splinter his skull to make sure the hunter never, ever has a chance to come back alive to hurt Stiles.

Stiles gags, more blood gushing from his nose as he heaves for breath. The two men kick him down to the asphalt , into a similar position with Derek. He’s so confused and terrified, and he has no idea what’s going on. Why wasn’t anyone coming for their rescue? Where the hell was all the staff from the station?

A sick thought creeps into his mind. Surely not -- Everyone couldn’t have died, right? There was no way these ignorant, standoffish and stupid hunters were able to murder every single police officer inside the building. Hell, they shouldn’t have had the chance to even subdue  _ Stiles _ , let alone beat him to a pulp. Stiles was trained for combat, for god’s sake. An entire SWAT team was swept off their feet by Stiles alone, and unless these hunters were more skilled, intelligent and strategic than an entire trained team of professional killers, there was not even an off chance of taking the man by surprise.

‘’Up we go,’’ the hunter says, kicking his temple as he takes his foot of his throat, and then drags him up by the collar of his shirt while he reels from the hit. ‘’Knock the sheriff out and put him in the trunk. I’ll take the beast. Meet us up by the ruins in the preserve.’’

‘’Yes, sir.’’ comes the chorus response. 

Derek is dragged forcefully inside one of the vans, shoved unceremoniously to the back seat. The hunter follows him, his machine gun prodding his side at every move. 

‘’If you even  _ think  _ about any funny business, mutt. . .’’

Inwardly cringing, Derek tries to keep his expression blank. Resigned to his fate, hoping Stiles will be alright, he braces himself for the inevitable violence that he knows for certain will happen, since he has no idea where to go or what to even look for.

The only thing that can save them is Stiles and his never ending supply of alternative plans.

He closes his eyes and dreams of the soft morning he and Stiles had not two days ago, hoping that if he believes it enough, his current predicament might just be a horrible, long and infinite nightmare. And that Stiles is only minutes away from waking him up with a slow, sleepy kiss.

He swears he isn’t disappointed when the car purrs into life and the cold, harsh reality literally knocks his head against the window glass, shattering the image.

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


It’s been a long time since he’s been to the property. The town had announced his childhood home to be demolished in a year’s time six years back, but had to withdraw the order after some bird sighters had discovered an endangered species of a bat, _ Eumops Floridanus _ . The wildlife department had tried relocating the mammals, but were unsuccessful, resulting his house to still be standing.

It’s been fenced all around now, though. The grass has grown to be tall and rich, trees and flora and fauna forming roots into the rotting floorboards, growing high against the walls. The roof had caved in some years back, taking down with it part of the wall. The mattress which Derek had slept in when he first came in town is still inside his old bedroom, probably moldy and rank by now. It had been pretty moldy already in the beginning, so he’s got some idea how much worse it might have become.

The cars all park by the fence. Derek is shoved out, and tasered when he moves too slow. The electricity burns where it burrows into his skin, but it heals just as fast as the blisters form. 

The hunter with the machine gun pushes him against the back of his knees, forcing him to the ground, keeping his gun loaded against his head. ‘’Bring out the sheriff,’’ the man smirks, pressing the barrel more deeply into his neck. ‘’Remember, beast. No funny business or he dies.’’

Derek doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t think he was supposed to.

‘’Derek, baby,’’ he hears Stiles murmur lowly as he’s manhandled out. ‘’Head west, to the caves, okay? Lead them there. Just trust me.’’

Shuddering a relieved breath at hearing Stiles be collected and calm and conscious, Derek takes a few seconds to remember how to get there from here. It’s been a long time since he’s visited the caves, probably not since Peter died. It had been his uncle’s favorite place to recuperate and heal, and once he felt the bond between them snap, feeling Peter’s death deep in his chest, he stopped restocking the place. He stopped  _ visiting  _ the place entirely.

He hopes it doesn’t smell like his uncle anymore. The nature must have washed his scent away by now. Because if it hasn't. . . Derek might not be able to handle any of this. He still has so many mixed emotions about his uncle, and not even the years of therapy have managed to truly sort out how he feels about Peter. He loved and hated him in equal measure, and grieving for Peter, missing the connection the two of them had messes with his head, even to this day.

‘’The hospitality your men provide to others could seriously use some work,’’ Stiles exclaims where he’s escorted away from the cars. He’s scowling and looks like he’s ready to tear someone apart. ‘’Ow, hey! Careful with the merchandise. You think this face came cheap, huh? Huh? You think I haven’t spent more than enough money to get this sexy bod? No? Then treat me like I’m million dollar diamond, dude.’’

Derek groans. 

‘’Shut the fuck up,’’ one of the men says, and then Derek hears a faint ‘thud’ that he just  _ knows  _ came from someone landing a hit on Stiles’s head. He’s definitely going to suffer some sort of brain injury after getting smacked around so much. Derek is going to tie him to bed and refuse to let him go until he’s certain there’s no lasting damage.

If they’re getting out of this alive, that is.

‘’Miller. Your equipment ready to record the trip?’’

‘’Yes, sir. I’m ready when you are.’’

‘’Good. Then let’s get this show on the road. Up, Hale. You’ll be leading us to our treasure. If you’re good, I’ll even consider letting you live.’’

Derek drags himself up to standing, chancing a quick look in Stiles’ direction. The man looks worse for wear, but there’s a warning glint in his eyes that whoever it is that lands the next blow against him, will regret it.

There’s a warning crackle of electricity before the hunter behind him prods him painfully forward. ‘’Get a move on, you half breed,’’ the man spits. 

Derek bares his teeth in fury of the insult, but he does as he’s asked. He’ll be faster without any bullet holes in his chest.

  
  
  
  
  


It takes them a good forty minutes of trekking through the thick bushes of the forest. All the trails that once used to crisscross along the preserve near his childhood home have been reclaimed by the forest, and the further they go, the harder it is to pass. The dense foliage is tough to get through, and Derek hears the other stumble multiple times even as he staves a path for all of them.

Some of the younger hunters are getting agitated, their heartbeats galloping in their chests. Stiles has been quiet for awhile now, which worries Derek. He might not be too far off with the concussion theory. These people are not pulling their punches.

The dark of the forest hides the animals that Derek knows are resting in the underbellies of the bushes well, scaring the shit out of the others whenever they get spooked enough that they escape noisily. He can smell the apprehension coming off of scarface, can hear how tightly the hunter is holding onto his gun. The longer they walk, the more trigger happy everyone becomes.

‘’Uh, boss?’’ one of the men pipes up unexpectedly. 

‘’What?’’ scarface snarls from behind Derek.

‘’We’re getting closer to some kind of cave area. There’s a river that flows through them, but the map says the trails leading up there are not accessible from the forest.’’

‘’And what does the beast say?’’ the hunter prods, taking out the taser again. ‘’I told you, no funny business. Or do you want me to shoot the sheriff, right here and now?’’

Derek turns, slowly, keeping his hands up. ‘’There are old trails that’ll lead us to where you want to go. The vault isn’t up in the caves.’’

Scarfaces assesses him for a moment before shrugging. ‘’You heard him, boys. Let’s get a move on. And bring that damn boy here so I can watch him.’’

Stiles is pushed roughly to the front, and he collides with Derek. Balancing his partner, Derek inhales his scent. He smells blood and damaged skin tissue, can hear the creak of a broken rib, but other than that, Stiles only smells of fury. 

‘’Now, let’s find that damn vault and get the fuck out of here. You put a toe out of line and you’ll find the sheriff’s brains decorating the ground.’’

Stiles rolls his eyes and starts forward again.  _ ‘’Yes _ , you’ve made that  _ abundantly  _ clear that you’re gonna shoot me in the head. We don’t need to hear it every five minutes, okay dude? You’re ruining the mood entirely. Or if you need to keep up with your evil villain monologue, how about you invent something new every once in awhile? Like, for example you could totally threaten to leave us in the forest for the fire ants to be eaten. That would be a fun way to show us what an evil, world conquering man you are, giving your victims a slow and torturous death.’’

The hunter snorts, ugly and derisive. ‘’His kind are not  _ victims _ . All these decades they’ve been killing humans, turning them into murdering beasts and forcing them to join their clan. He’s a slave to the moon, and they’ll all be eradicated and culled like all animals are when they get rabid. We’re doing god’s given work by offing beasts like him, and one day, when a were like Hale turns feral and decides to kill you, you’ll be regretting ever getting to know these wolves. People will be singing our praises when we finally cut off the last of a monster’s head, and we’ll be getting our reward for saving humanity. And after that, we’ll be coming for the humans that are fucking these dogs, and we’ll put an end to your lives too, making sure you’re not hiding anything or anyone from justice.’’

Stiles is quiet for a minute before he turns to Derek and deadpans, ‘’And that’s a prime example of a racist white nationalist. Probably has confederate flags in his house and voted for Donald Trump way back when. I bet he beats his wife and kids too, if he has any.’’

Derek shrugs. ‘’The hunters use a lot of arranged marriages. If he has a wife, it probably wasn’t her choice.’’

The zap of the electricity isn’t a surprise, but it still hurts. The taser is pushed against the back of his bare neck where the burning shocks travel to his spine. Derek’s knees give out, and he drops to the ground, convulsing. He grits his teeth against the pain, refusing to scream.

‘’Ah, fuck -- ‘’ he hears Stiles mutter, before he too gets down to his knees. There’s a sound of loading a gun. He sees Stiles glaring up at the barrel of it, defiant and stubborn. The electricity stops just as abruptly, scarface focusing on Stiles.

‘’You think this is some sort of game, boy? You think I won’t kill you at the end of the day if you keep acting like this?’’ The hunter snaps, cocking his gun. ‘’You run with wolves, you think I won’t kill you just because you’re human?’’

‘’If it means I’ll be saved from your egoistic, racist speeches -- ‘’ 

Stiles doesn’t manage to say much more before the hunter kicks him straight to his side where his ribs are cracked. They break. He doesn’t scream, but Derek sees how he loses his breath for a moment, twisting away from another hit.

Derek doesn’t have time to think before a single shot echoes through the forest. He watches, wide-eyed, as the hunter towering over Stiles gets blown through his chest. The man stumbles back a couple steps before falling down like a brick, dead before he even hits the ground.

‘’Stay down!’’ Stiles grits, crawling over to Derek. 

Nodding, Derek grabs his boyfriend and as gently as he can, lays him on the ground so he can shield him from the gunshots. And now that he concentrates on it, he can hear familiar heartbeats all over the forest, Kira and Boyd and Parrish, all hidden in the talls of trees, shooting targets with alarming accuracy.

‘’Told you I’d take care of things,’’ Stiles murmurs underneath him, his voice barely audible from the multiple gunshots ringing throughout the night. 

Looking down at the man, he can’t help but scowl in worry. ‘’And that meant getting yourself hurt?’’ he asks, gaze not missing how Stiles is holding his side. 

‘’When I ran the register plate, it came back to me with George Johnson. You remember? He was deputy Haigh’s friend back when  _ that dick  _ was still alive, and he had no doubt told George about Peter and your family’s vaults, so he knew about you and your inheritance. When Gerard Argent kept rallying other hunter clans to attack non-humans in his claimed land, Haigh and other hunters kept looking for Peter’s riches. Then all of them, Gerard, Haigh, Peter, everyone died at some point, and your family’s vaults were forgotten. Until, you know, Johnson claimed bankruptcy and recalled his treasure hunt from decade ago, deciding to come here to scope things out.’’

Derek sighs, exhausted. ‘’Really? He sent a dozen hunter families into our town because he was chasing a vault that may not even exist?’’

‘’You think it doesn’t even exist?’’ Stiles asks, only mildly surprised. ‘’You do have vaults all over the town. Having one hidden for wealth isn’t that far fetched you know?’’ He points out.

With a shake of his head, Derek says, ‘’This is my uncle  _ Peter  _ we’re talking about. If he had any money for his name, then it sure as hell wasn’t stashed anywhere near Beacon Hills.’’

Stiles makes a face. ‘’True. Wow. What a dick. Still able to cause us trouble, even from the grave. And they say  _ my  _  name is mischief.’’

Derek grins, exasparated and fond. ‘’Yeah,’’  he agrees a little thickly. ‘’That’s uncle Peter for you.’’ Peter may have been a dick in the past, and done horrible things, but Derek is still only in the process of grieving for him. His therapist agrees that, due all he’s gone through, his mourning process is a lot longer, and a lot more complicated than normal. 

It’s been years now, but it still aches in his chest when he lets his thoughts stray to his uncle.

‘’Hey, you two lovebirds. You doing alright?’’ Parrish asks, stepping into Derek’s view.

‘’It’s over already?’’ Stiles squirms from underneath him, looking around. ‘’You didn’t kill them all, did you?’’

‘’What kind of police officer do you take me for?’’ Parrish rolls his eyes. ‘’Of course not. Once we took this one guy down, the rest of them caved pretty soon after. We’ll be arresting them based on the surveillance footage from the police station, as well as the videos captured from the old Hale house. All of them are charged with, probably, kidnapping, extortion, assault, illegal use of firearms... The list is still getting longer, I think.’’

‘’Uh-huh, add in an assault of a police officer, resisting arrest... Who we gonna pin the death on?’’

‘’I’ll take the blame for that. Since he was holding you hostage and threatening to shoot both of you, I had the right to legally use force to take him down. We got all of his speeches on recording, so his lily white ass will stay dead without any repercussions for me,’’ Jordan assures. 

‘’Aw, but they’ll have to put you on paid leave for the duration of the investigation. Who am I supposed to partner with, then? Deputy Smith? I don’t think so.’’

‘’You can think of another alternative while we’ll be checking your injuries out in the ER,’’ Derek says, rolling off of Stiles and getting up. He hoists his boyfriend up too, more gently than he had before, aware of the broken ribs and the way Stiles winces at every movement of his hand. 

‘’Ugh. If we get to the ER, they should check out Derek too. He got hit too. The puny human isn’t the only one in need of a  _ medi-ci-na _ .’’

‘’Derek  _ heals _ ,’’ Derek says snarkily, scooping Stiles up to a bridal carry. ‘’And I’m also a werewolf. The bruise on my arm you took a picture of isn’t even there anymore, so if a nurse checks me out, they’ll be able to see the inconsistencies in our story. We need an airtight case if we take this to the court, let our attorney have it just a little bit easier.’’ He pauses. ‘’Also, you’re not puny. You’re almost the same size as I am.’’

Stiles gasps a little in pain when his ribs are jostled. Derek winces in sympathy, taking his pain where his shirt has run up and his hand is pressed against naked skin. 

‘’Sorry,’’ he apologizes.

‘’No problem,’’ Stiles says a little tightly. ‘’Maybe I’ll have that visit to Melissa after all, she always gives some of the good stuff. Ugh. And really? Mrs. Kowalewicz will crush anyone that stands in her court. Airtight case or not. She’s  _ wonder woman.’’ _

‘’She is,’’ Derek agrees. He starts to slowly trek back to the cars, following their friends and the hunters they’re pushing none too kindly along. ‘’Doesn’t mean we have to make her work more difficult than it already is.’’

Stiles looks up at Derek, blinking, before his mouth stretches to a fond smile. ‘’How did I ever think of you as anything else but a marshmallow on the inside?’’

His ears heating up, Derek scowls. ‘’Shut up,’’ he grumbles. ‘’Let’s get you checked out, and then you can explain to me why you didn’t think it would be a good idea to let me in on your plans. And  _ then _ , we can go to John’s house, and you can tell  _ him  _ why you put yourself in the line of fire without consulting either of us first, and why you thought it wise to keep him out of the loop.’’

Stiles groans. ‘’I was planning on telling you! I  _ swear  _ I was. We didn’t finish finalizing the plan before this morning, and you’d already gone to speak with your publisher by the time we were ready. I was supposed to go through the details with you during dinner tonight, give you the code for the alarm that would’ve alerted all of our friends to our whereabouts and that we were in danger. But, as you can see, the hunters got to us before I could find the chance to explain and uh, I’m sorry. Yeah.’’

Derek just shakes his head. ‘’Let’s just get you to the hospital. We can talk later, okay?’’

Subdued, Stiles nods. Then he mutters, ‘’And, uh, my dad didn’t know because… Because I know he’d want to be part of this. But the supernatural world is so dangerous and he’s - He’s becoming so  _ old _ , Derek. I don’t want to drag him into this sort of thing anymore if I can help it. I don’t want him to get hurt while he’s trying to solve Peter Hale’s decade old mystery that might not even be true. You know? He deserves to have the good things from life and not worry about us all the time when we get out to the field. Dad shouldn’t be involved in these sorts of supernatural shenanigans.’’ He smells genuinely upset.

Something cold pools into Derek’s stomach at the words. He does know, oh does he  _ ever _ , that the life Derek was born into can be fatal and twisted and horrible. He’s lived his entire life with healthy amount of fear of being killed for who he is,  _ what  _ he is. For more than half of his life has gone by while ashes of his family have coated his lungs and his heart and his hands. There is always someone out there that will want to hurt him and his family for just existing, wants to torture and humiliate and kill just because they don’t see Derek’s kind as people.

He swallows. This couldn’t finally be Stiles’ breaking point, could it? The one Derek has been waiting for more than ten years to happen. Is this finally the moment that Stiles decides he won’t want to be part of Derek’s life, the pack’s life, any longer? He wouldn’t begrudge Stiles for it. Being with Derek is  _ always  _ going to be dangerous and difficult. It would be wise to make a clean break for it with an excuse like that. There’s no one Stiles will ever love more than he loves his father. Derek is aware of that.

A tiny raging voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Laura is immediately ridiculing him for his thoughts. He’s overthinking, panicked and stressed over everything right now, and when he’s forced into a corner, he tends to jump into the worst conclusions. Because he knows for certain that as they are right now? There’s no way Stiles would ever let  _ anything  _ come between them. Not without beating someone to a bloody pulp for even entertaining the thought. 

Fuck. Stiles would beat  _ Derek  _ up for even thinking about breaking up over such matter. Jesus. Half of the bakery is in Stiles’ name, they have mortgage together, they have a shared bank account,  _ and  _ they’ve been together for _ ten years. _

Stiles isn’t going anywhere.

‘’Hey,’’ Stiles murmurs, startling Derek. He looks down at the man in his arms, and sees him frowning. ‘’You disappeared on me for a minute. What’s going on in that head of yours?’’ Stiles asks, bringing his hand up to smooth the wrinkle between Derek’s brows.

‘’It’s nothing,’’ Derek reassures quickly. Too quickly. Damn it.

Stiles cocks his head, assessing, which makes Derek want to look away. Stiles is entirely too perceptive, especially when it comes to Derek. ‘’You sure? You look a lil constipated there, bud.’’

Derek nods, relieved to see Jordan waving at them further down the beaten path. ‘’Everything’s fine,’’ he says quietly, gently bending Stiles lower an inch to avoid colliding with a hanging branch.

Stiles snorts, then groans in pain. ‘’We’ll talk about that ‘fine’ of yours at home.’’

Resigned to his fate, he closes the distance between him and Jordan easily, careful with his cargo. Each step strengthens the smell of pain wafting off of Stiles, despite Derek leeching as much as he can without accidentally dropping him. 

‘’You’ve looked better, Stiles,’’ Jordan says as he ushers them in the back of his dirt road Jeep. ‘’Though, you’ve also looked far far worse.’’

‘’’Tis but a flesh wound,’’ Stiles slurs, suddenly looking an alarming shade of white. 

Jordan looks at him in concern, and then turns to Derek, smelling exasperated. ‘’If the doctor doesn’t declare him entirely healthy apart from a couple bruises and scratches, you aren’t going to let him out of bed for at least a week, are you?’’

‘’Damn right, I won’t,’’ Derek growls, belting them both in as Jordan jumps into the front. ‘’This town can survive a week without a sheriff. Stiles has done more than his fair share of work and deserves to recuperate without anything sidetracking him from his healing.’’

Jordan lets the engine rumble to life. ‘’Yeah, of course. You might want to consider taking a trip to your family cottage though. I might be able to keep the deputies from interacting with Stiles, but can you honestly keep Stiles contained long enough for his injuries to heal without him either sneaking work calls or emails or himself to the station to see how things are running?’’

Derek pets Stiles’ hair where his head lays on his lap, looking at his partner, his boyfriend, his mate, of ten years, and traces his fatigued features. The idea doesn’t sound all that bad to him. They both would deserve a small getaway from the reality for a week. Stay surrounded by the quiet forest, let the nature heal everything it needs to.

Stiles mumbles something under his breath, cold sweat starting to coat his skin. Pulling more of his pain, enough for Derek to grit his teeth together as the ache transfers to his body, Stiles sighs and quiets down. 

Yeah. A week away, just the two of them, doesn’t sound all that bad. Not bad at all.

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


‘’Okay,’’ Stiles says, carefully shuffling onto his good side where he lays on the bed. ‘’Spit it out.’’

Derek startles, looking guiltily over. Stiles is staring at him with calm patience, something steady and focused layering his scent. Knowing there’s a storm brewing inside Derek’s heart, Stiles waits for him to gather his words.

It takes a moment. Derek fiddles uneasily with a shirt he’d taken off since it was caked in mud, pulling at a ruptured seam. It’s a little like a pathetic metaphor of his life. He always seems to be slightly broken from the seams, no matter how much he tries patching himself up. 

His mind flashes back to few hours previous. Being at the hospital had triggered awful memories for him. All the smells around there, the antiseptic, all the mixing illnesses, death, screaming, crying… He’d felt lost and unmoored in the huge hallways with Stiles far away from him, transferred from room to room as everyone tried to patch him up enough for him to go home. The longer he went without seeing Stiles, the worse his blunt nails had dug into the skin of his arms as he tried holding himself together.

_ An extensive brain injury, along with some other external and internal ruptures in his body, _ the doctor had said when Derek had desperately tried interrogating the nurse for Stiles’ condition.  _ There was some damage visible in the scans, though we will have to see how it develops over the next few weeks _ , he had continued when Derek had been too shocked to say anything. 

A brain injury. The knowledge had been hard to swallow. When Stiles had finally been released from his treatment and Derek was led to his room, they’d both just sat there for a long moment in quiet. Too angry, too helpless, too  _ scared  _ to know where to even begin processing everything. Every piece of damage to a brain was unpredictable and they had no idea what the future might hold now.

Derek had smelled the unshed tears on Stiles, the anguish. But there had also been sheer determination, the kind only the Stilinskis possess. Derek had quietly slipped his hand into Stiles’, gripping it hard.

He’s afraid that this fear of losing everyone he loves will be a weight that he will always have to carry. And that Stiles might one day get fed up with always getting hurt around Derek, always having to keep being on his toes in case something unexpected and  _ bad  _ happens. Just like this. Stiles could do so, so much better, could find anyone he’d like, who would be safer to be with.  _ Saner  _ to be with, since all of their closest pack know how volatile Derek can become if he experiences a bad trigger. Because even after so many years, he still has unidentified triggers that he has no idea even existed, until he comes upon them and his body starts acting in its own accord.

Stiles still holds a scar on both of his thighs from a good night turned bad. Derek is capable of hurting him without meaning to when his PTSD rears its ugly head, and Stiles could,  _ should  _ leave before Derek can do any more permanent damage.

Though he knows Stiles won’t. He’s seen the ring Stiles has tried sneakily hiding in their bedroom, has seen the engravings inside it. He’s just as much as an anchor to Stiles as Stiles is to him, and they don’t function without seeing each other for long periods of times. They’re  _ it  _ for each other, there’s so much in their future that they haven’t experienced yet, haven’t adventured into yet. 

They still have so much to live for. And Derek is so  _ so scared _ of all of it slipping through his hands and turning yet again into ashes in his throat.

‘’Derek.’’

Derek sighs. He sits down next to Stiles’ naked form, catalogs  the bandages and the bruises. He can scent them easily, knows they’re clean and clogged now, with no blood seeping through anywhere. Stiles is healing, cell by cell in a tortuously slow human rate, but he  _ is  _ healing.

‘’I guess,’’ he starts in a quiet voice, trying to remember what kind of sentence his therapist always starts with when she wants to talk about difficult things. ‘’I’m terrified. Of. Losing you.’’

Nodding slowly, Stiles shuffles closer. ‘’As I am of you.’’

Derek hesitates, stalling. ‘’You - Are you okay?’’

Stiles frowns. ‘’We’ve established that I’m okay. I went to the ER, I was checked out and got fixed up.’’ He pauses. ‘’Well. As fixed as anyone with an extensive brain injury can be. That’s not what you want to talk about. Don’t deflect. What’s really going on in that head of yours?’’

A warm hand sneaks around Derek’s wrist and guides him to lay on the bed next to Stiles. He obliges, stiffly turning to his back as Stiles cuddles close to him. He intertwines their fingers. 

Stiles gently prompts, ‘’Hey. I’m fine. I’m right here. Can you tell me what’s going on?’’

Taking another moment to make some sense to his own feelings, Derek plays with Stiles’ long and dexterous digits. He’s always admired the strength of them. Stiles has always been deceptively lean to someone who could break a man twice his size in half. And these hands have held Derek, soothed and comforted, gripped painfully when he’s desperate or angry and poked and tickled when Stiles has been feeling playful. To Derek, they’re a symbol of protection. Of home.

Taking a deep breath, he calms his heartbeat. The ever present scent of  _ DerekStiles  _ in their bedroom is comforting, a balm to his frazzled nerves. Stiles still smells a lot like the hospital, despite the careful wiping down Derek gave him, and it’s almost impossible to push down the primal urge to drown Stiles in his scent. 

He clasps both his hands over Stiles, nosing the man’s temple. ‘’I was born into this life. I’ve never known anything else but this. All my life I have been aware of the dangers of power, of hunters, of too much magic. It… In the past, my - my childhood. It wasn’t like this, it wasn’t, the threats and the fear of death wasn’t present all the time. We were always taught to me cautious, but my mom’s name preceded far and wide, and we were protected. We were safe.’’

He feels Stiles move his hand so that it squeezes Derek’s in support. Continuing in a whisper, Derek says, ‘’I understand your inherent need to protect your dad. I get that you don’t want him to be in constant danger from rogue hunters or power hungry sorcerers or whoever. But I don’t - I don’t understand why you would go as far as isolating John from all of it.’’ He hesitates, but manages through the lump in his throat, ‘’From  _ us _ . The pack. Our family.’’

Stiles’ eyes widen, the bitter scent of his shock filling the air. ‘’Oh God, Derek, no.  _ No _ . That’s not what I want to do,  _ Jesus _ . I just don’t want him to bug in into my  _ police  _ work. You know? The official law enforcement stuff he’s unable to keep his grabby hands off of. Which, now that I’m saying it out loud, it does sound super hypocritical of me since that’s all  _ I  _ did when dad was the sheriff. But my point is that dad’s had two back surgeries after that drunk and driving incident two years ago. His thoracic vertebra has swelled twice, and I’m, like,  _ super intensely _ worried whenever he asks to join whatever preserve trek were doing at the time. The doctor told us that even just a very bad fall might cause irreparable damage to his spine. Might even paralyze him.’’

Derek deflates. ‘’Oh.’’

Snorting, Stiles gently swats at his chest. ‘’Yeah,  _ oh _ . What the hell were you thinking of, big guy? That I would get fed up with all of this werewolf stuff just because some douchebags decided to try and best me,  _ us _ , in our own town, our own game? You honestly didn’t think I’d leave your furry ass after some exhausting weeks of stupid people circling us? Derek?’’ 

Guilty, Derek keeps his eyes firmly locked on the ceiling.

This time Stiles’ groan is muffled against the skin of Derek’s neck. ‘’You did, didn’t you. You thought I’d finally come to, what, my  _ senses _ ? And left you for safer suburb life with some wife and white picket fence and 2,5 children? We haven’t even  _ talked  _ about children yet, because I was waiting for you to say something regarding the topic. Didn’t wanna push too much, in case it wasn’t, you know, something you’d considered yet.’’ Stiles pauses. ‘’I mean, I turned 30 this year, so it’s not like we don’t have all the time in the world to look after some little boogers, but I just. Don’t know. Didn’t… Memories, you know?’’

Something soft settles in Derek’s chest.  ‘’You do realize that John’s been kept updated this whole time by Jordan?’’

‘’What!’’ Stiles snaps, attempting to shoot up before the pain forces him back down against Derek’s front. He squirms, outraged. ‘’Why the hell would Parrish snitch to my dad about this? I even  _ exclusively  _ told them not to tell anything to him. Fuck. He’s gonna be so pissed.’’

‘’He came by the hospital while you were having one of your scans,’’ Derek says. ‘’He was worried, and wanted to wait until you were out, but it took them five hours to go through everything and Melissa forced him to go home. He’s coming by tomorrow sometime, so you can rehearse your argument until then.’’

‘’Damn it,’’ Stiles swears. ‘’Betrayed by my own deputies. Unbelievable.’’

‘’To be fair,’’ Derek says, bemused,  ‘’they were your dad’s first. You sort of inherited them when John retired and you took his position.’’

‘’True,’’ Stiles sighs. ‘’Parrish still feels like he owes his life to dad. He’s a pretty dedicated dude.’’

Derek nods, tracing the veins on Stiles’ palm. They’re quiet for a moment before he asks, ‘’About that… Plan of yours. You said that you’d share it with me during dinner. But I was in your office for hours before we were supposed to go home and eat. Why didn’t you just… Tell me then?’’

Stiles waves this away. ‘’You know my mind is like in a trillion places at a time when I work. Considering the massive wave of supernatural people escaping the hunt and the bounty hunters chasing them, we keep getting a lot of fights and accidents reported around town while the dust settles. The crime wave has swelled a lot in the recent years, since the hunters keep making nuisance of themselves by picking up on anyone who’s even remotely humanoid looking. Which in turn keeps the police extremely busy.’’

Derek nods in understanding. He understands the nuances of the ADD a lot better now. ‘’I’m just… Glad that you’re okay,’’ he says quietly. 

Stiles props himself up on his elbow and looks down on him. He stares for a long time, cataloging Derek’s pained expression, before he slowly, carefully bends down to capture his lips into a soft kiss.

‘’I’m okay,’’ he whispers. ‘’I promise.’’

Derek kisses back, relieved and grateful. He opens his mouth to teasingly lick the seams of Stiles’ lips, nip and bite the red cupid bow of his mouth. It tastes bitter, like medicine and vinegar, Stiles’ own taste drowning underneath it.  

Stiles makes a hungry sound at the back of his throat, moving carefully in the V of Derek’s legs while keeping his mouth occupied still. It takes a moment for him to maneuver as pain freely as possible, put his hurt limbs in positions that don’t put too much strain on them.

Creeping his hand up, Derek gently cups the round of Stiles’ skull, careful of the two tender spots at the back of his head, taking the pain away with thick, black veins creeping up his forearm. ‘’We don’t have to,’’ he whispers, holding his breath as Stiles’ palm rubs at Derek’s clothed, half hard cock. 

‘’Mmh, wanna,’’ Stiles mumbles. ‘’Wanna smell like you. Even I can tell that I reek of antiseptic and the strong stench of the hospital. I know you want to mark me up, big guy. I  _ need  _ that. C’mon.’’

Groaning, Derek cants his hips upwards against the firm touch, sparks of pleasure soothing up his spine. It feels good, perfect, when Stiles pushes his mouth back against Derek’s and keeps his ministrations up. Those clever fingers find their way quickly inside Derek’s dirty jeans, pulling his cock out.

‘’Wait, wait, let me just - ‘’ he says, focusing for a moment to getting out of the jeans. Placing a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips, he pushes the man off for a minute as he fights with his garments. Stiles manages a grin towards him when the too tight pant leg gets stuck to his heel. Derek glowers back in embarrassment.

Once he’s naked, Stiles comes back to him, settling easily within Derek’s parted legs. He bends them a little and stretches them to the sides with his heels firmly against he bedding, to expose his groin more, which makes heat creep up the highs of Derek’s cheeks.

‘’I love you,’’ Stiles says, as he kisses Derek’s bent knee. His hands rubs soothingly up and down his shins, comforting as much as building up the arousal. ‘’Love you so much. I know I do stupid, reckless shit to keep everyone I love safe, but I never mean to hurt you when I do. I want to protect you from all the evil in the world, forgetting, sometimes, that me getting injured or shamed hurts you a lot  more than any wendigo’s claws or a hunter’s bullets do.’’

‘’Stiles - ‘’

‘’I know,’’ Stiles murmurs, slowly kissing down Derek’s muscular thigh. Biting at the tender skin on the inside of his thighs, Stiles licks the same spots, soothing the sting. It makes his cock jerk.  ‘’I promise to try and do better, inform you more,’’ he says, moving further up his body. He skips the V of Derek’s groin, places a soft peck onto far side of his ribs, skirting around his stomach. Carefully avoiding bad memories. ‘’Promise to take lot less risks from now on. What I did today was stupid. It wasn’t supposed to end like that, but my hand was forced since I knew they’d have you surrounded. We just had to move on with the plan a lot quicker, and that meant me getting into close quarters with both you and the head of that groups of douchebags.’’

Licking a long stripe up to Derek’s nipple, Stiles grins a little ruefully. ‘’I love you a little too much. I’d do  _ anything  _ to keep you safe.’’ He bites down on the same spot, making Derek arch against the feeling. Then he sucks it into his mouth, nibbling at the sensitive bud.

‘’I want you safe too,’’ Derek breathes, thrusting his hips upwards to meet with Stiles’. ‘’Want to make you feel good.’’

‘’Kiss me,’’ Stiles demands. 

Derek obliges, sweetly guiding their mouths together. To explore Stiles’ mouth, Derek thinks it’s a lot like coming home, comforting in its familiarity, its heat. He moans into it,  licking deep into the kiss. 

Stiles starts slowly rutting their erections together. It’s maddening and exciting at the same time, to feel Stiles’ hot cock swell and fill as he  grinds their erections against each other. The pleasure builds, one firm stroke at a time, beads of cum dripping from the head of Derek’s throbbing cock. 

He throws his arms around Stiles, holding him closer. Stiles starts placing kisses along the column of his neck, tracing the curve of his jaw, his ear, trailing down to the tender of his adam’s apple. Derek’s heart skips a beat at the tenderness of it, and he grips his arms tighter around Stiles’ sturdy shoulders, holding onto dear life.

Stiles senses the change in his mood, the desperations of his embrace. ‘’Hey,’’ he whispers, surfacing up to look Derek into his eyes. Derek in turns his gaze down, his eyelids fluttering close. ‘’Hey. I’m not going anywhere.’’

Derek nods, but he can’t manage to utter words. They’ve formed a lump in his throat and he finds it hard to speak anything in turn.

‘’It’s okay, big guy. I love you. I got you,’’ Stiles says, and brings his hand to pull Derek’s head towards to press their foreheads together. ‘’Let’s come together, hm? Let’s smell like us again. Make me yours, Derek.’’

The longs dexterous fingers trail down Derek’s chest, rubbing circular soothing motions down and then grips at both of their cocks at the same time. They breathe sharply in unison at the touch, canting their hips upwards. Stiles rubs at the heads, pressing down his thumb into Derek’s slit, moaning.

‘’Let me taste you,’’ Stiles says, licking his lips. ‘’Let me taste  _ us _ .’’

With a strangled whine, Derek releases one of his arms from around Stiles’ shoulders and brings it down to join Stiles’ hand onto their cocks. He grips both erections firmly in his hand and starts a brutal pace. Stiles whines at the harsh grip. He spits saliva onto the two hands stroking them both, easing the way just a little.

‘’That’s it,’’ Stiles breathes, ‘’Come on, Derek. Make us come.’’

His fangs dropping, Derek growls, latching his teeth onto Stiles’ unsuspecting breast, suckling at the skin as he draws a little blood. It makes Stiles arch his back in a painful sounding curve as his ribs creak and he comes, long spurts of come decorating this chest and Derek’s chin. 

The smell of his mate’s semen in his nose forces Derek’s balls to draw up high, and when Stiles smears his own come into  both of their chest, his other hand pushing a fingernail into the sensitive slit of his cock, Derek is helpless to do anything but chase his release.

He pants in the aftermath, greedily inhaling the familiar scent of them. 

‘’That was good,’’ Stiles slurs, and then winces as he flops back against Derek’s chest. ‘’Though I shouldn’t have arched like that, oh my god, my ribs just started a fucking drum orchestra inside me. Ow, ow ow ow, fuck, that hurts, hng.’’

The dreams of a quiet post-coital cuddling vanishing from his mind, Derek carefully extracts Stiles despite his whining protests, and pulls a little more of his pain. ‘’I’ll go grab your painkillers, okay? Get you cleaned up.’’

‘’Such a good alpha,’’ Stiles grins tiredly, starfishing on the bed. His ribs seem to like that a lot better.   
Derek pecks him on his forehead, smoothing an escaped strand of hair back into its place. ‘’For you,’’ he says. It makes Stiles’ scent flutter pleasantly into varieties of honeycomb. 

‘’Such a sap,’’ Stiles teases, closing his eyes at the kiss. ‘’Be quickly back.’’

Derek hurries as quick as he can, having some mind to take a couple granola bars and apples and two water bottles with him. He finds the wet wipes from the bathroom cabinet and decides to grab their favorite pajama bottoms with him.

When he gets back to the room, he says, ‘’I brought us something to -- ‘’

Stopping dead in his tracks, he sees Stiles kneeling on the floor, still naked, with a ring poised upwards in his hands.

‘’What -- ‘’

‘’I love you,’’ Stiles says steadily as Derek stutters into silence. ‘’You’re my rock, my moon and my sun. After all these years, I still find new things to love about you, still find things to be exciting and adventurous whenever I’m with you. And I wanted to ask you of this, of your devotion and your life and your love, a long time ago, but I couldn’t because it took me five years to make this ring. And now - Now I finally finished it. And I want you - ‘’

‘’Yes,’’ Derek chokes, marching up to him, dropping all of the stuff from his hands to the floor before kneeling too. He pulls Stiles’ hands into his.  _ ‘’Yes _ . My answer is yes.’’

‘’Yeah?’’ Stiles breathes, his eyes sparkling. ‘’For as long as I live?’’

‘’For as long as  _ we  _ live,’’ Derek responds, before embracing Stiles into a hug. ‘’God, for as long as you’ll have me,’’ he whispers, and feels Stiles put his arms around his frame.

‘’Forever then,’’ Stiles grins, his voice suspiciously thick.

Taking the ring from Stiles’ fingers, he gets them back up the bed. Stiles takes everything Derek threw to the floor and puts them on top of the mattress, searching for the medicine as Derek inspects his new ring.

‘’It’s, uh, cobalt and meteorite,’’ Stiles offers. ‘’It’s um, charmed. Designed just for you.’’

Derek holds the ring in his palms, marvelling the gray and dull turquoise hues. It doesn’t glint against the light in their room, and the rock feels rough against his skin. ‘’It’s amazing,’’ he says in a hushed tone. There are gravings inside the band, intricate symbols that go around the entire length of it, his triskele carved in with the rest of them. ‘’How much did it cost you to create this?’’

‘’Uh, a lot,’’ Stiles scratches his head. He clambers up to the bed, snuggling back under Derek’s arm to stare at the ring. ‘’I had to redo it a couple times. It’s super difficult to work extremely detailed things within such small space, but. It was for you. So it was worth it.’’

‘’How much?’’

Kissing underneath Derek’s chin, Stiles says, ‘’The initial cost was over four thousand dollars. Though for me, it was less money and more magical favors to certain people.’’

‘’Four  _ thousand _ ?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ Stiles nods. He smells pleased by Derek’s shock and awe. ‘’Can I?’’ Stiles asks, pointing at the ring.

Wordlessy, Derek offers the band to Stiles. He gives his hand and rests it against Stiles’ palm, his heart fluttering.

Stiles slips the ring into his finger, smoothly and easily. It fits perfectly. ‘’There,’’ murmurs Stiles. ‘’It looks even better than anything I ever imagined.’’ He looks up, gazing into Derek’s eyes. ‘’I love you.’’

‘’I love you too,’’ Derek murmurs back. Mindful of his injuries, he pulls Stiles gently closer, covering his mouth with his own. It’s gratitude and joy and awe all channeled into that one kiss. He rests his ringed hand over Stiles’ chest, where his heart lays, feeling each beat thunder underneath his palm. Stiles’ breath hitches as the cold presses onto his skin, but he moans hungrily for it.

He breaks the kiss when Stiles’ mouth stretches into a huge grin, rendering kissing moot. ‘’Wanna have engaged people sex?’’ Stiles asks, eyes crinkling from the corners. His other eye is swelling still, purple and green and yellow. It doesn’t seem to bother him now, too high on the endorphins.

‘’I have no idea what that means, but I’ll still say yes,’’ Derek answers, amused.

‘’Let’s have an autumn wedding,’’ Stiles says as he gets back to the familiar position between Derek’s spread legs. ‘’Let’s make sugar coated apples and create a lantern path in the dark and let’s both wear white.’’

‘’Yeah,’’ Derek nods, his hands coming up to wander up and down Stiles’ front, skirting around the broken ribs. ‘’Anything you want. We have time to plan.’’

‘’Damn straight,’’ Stiles says, smoothing his palms over Derek’s thighs. ‘’We can tell everyone tomorrow. Or, well.’’ He glances at the clock on their bedside table. ‘’Today. It  _ is  _ after three in the morning.’’

‘’I’ll have the bakery closed today. Call the pack for lunch. Explain everything that happened with the hunters.’’

Stiles smacks a smooch onto Derek’s knee. ‘’And that I finally put a ring on it.’’

‘’And that,’’ Derek confirms, content. The ring is a comforting weight in his finger, something he didn’t think he’d get used to so fast. 

‘’Now come on,’’ Stiles says, his cock half chub already, despite having come not ten minutes ago. ‘’Let’s get you up to par with me and have some spectacular fucking orgasms. We’ve deserved it.’’

Derek can’t help but agree with that.

  
  


\----

  
  
  


The cabin, when they reach it a couple days later, is covered entirely in wild flora and fauna. They spend the first hour and a half just clearing the yard and the front porch enough that they can heave their bags inside. 

Derek refuses to let Stiles do any heavy lifting since his ribs are still a throbbing mess, but pulling vines down from obscuring the windows is light enough even for him.

After they’ve worked good while in the sun, they finally manage to get in. Stiles makes an immediate beeline for the dusty rattan chair. 

As Stiles collapses on the cushions, he groans. “Who knew taking a vacation would be such hard work?”

Derek shakes his head as he carries a small, portable gas tank inside. “I can make us bacon omelettes if you’ll manage to change the sheets from the bed.’’

‘’Yeah, okay,’’ Stiles yawns, not moving anywhere.

‘’Afterwards we can go see if the small dock my dad built is still hanging on. There’s a narrow strip of sand next to it that’s shallow enough for wading in the water.’’

Stiles perks up a little. ‘’Oh yeah, I think you mentioned that back when we visited for the first time. We didn’t have the time or energy to go check it out then, though.’’

‘’No, I think the goblins chasing us were a pretty good incentive to not venture out in the open,’’ Derek says dryly. ‘’Boyd and Erica didn’t go down the beach when they spent Boyd’s part of the honeymoon here. Or if they did, they didn’t mention it.’’

‘’Nah,’’ Stiles waves his hand, ‘’Erica probably managed to persuade him to stay indoors pretty much the entire time. They did get out during Erica’s part of the trip though, when they went to Italy to see all the tourist attractions. She mentioned the fantastic steak she kept getting, though I’m still not sure whether she was talking about Boyd or actual food.’’

Brushing by, Derek bends down to snatch a kiss from Stiles. ‘’Probably both,’’ he mutters. ‘’Now c’mon. I want to unload everything so we can just relax the rest of the day. Go grab the bedlinen so I can do all the heavy stuff.’’

With a great sigh, Stiles obliges. ‘’I’m supposed to be pampered. I’m injured and hurting and you’re making me do  _ work _ .’’

‘’Factitious injuries don’t garner the full pampering regime. At least I’m assigning you the easy tasks. I could ask you to clean the toilet if you wanted. That’s not physically demanding.’’

Stiles squawks, getting up and scampering towards the bedroom. ‘’I’ll be here. Doing the bedsheets some magic. You uh, you do you, dear.’’

Derek snorts, stupidly endeared. He grabs Stiles’ arm and brings him gently to a hug. ‘’Love you,’’ he says against his temple. ‘’The next time you decide to put your ass through the wringer by anyone else other than me, I  _ will  _ make you clean the toilet.’’

‘’Evil,’’ Stiles hisses, embracing him back. ‘’I’m engaged to an evil  _ evil  _ man.’’

‘’And don’t you forget it,’’ Derek smirks, patting his ass as he releases Stiles. ‘’Now go. It’ll take me some time to get the gas oven to work, but I’m sure you can find yourself occupied in the meantime. And just so you know, your cell phone won’t have any reception here, so you can forget about trying to sneak a look at your office email.’’

‘’But what if there’s an emergency?’’ Stiles asks. ‘’What if something’s happening back home and nobody will be able to reach us?’’ He gasps. ‘’What if Kira forgot to do the orders for next week? They could run out of stuff to sell.’’

‘’We’re only gone for a week. The world won’t end while we stay here and the station will still  be standing when you get back. As will our bakery. And if anyone has anything urgent they want us to know, there’s a landline that’s still working here. They’ll be able to reach us just fine.’’

Stiles blinks, processing the information, before his mouth stretches into a wide smile. ‘’You’ve thought of everything, huh.’’

‘’I want you healed and healthy,’’ Derek says, meaning it. ‘’If it means staying here for a week with no reception or wifi and risk getting you bored, then I’ll gladly do it.’’

‘’Like I could get bored when I’m with  _ you _ ,’’ Stiles mutters. ‘’Now go make me an omelette, my big bad alpha. Your injured stag needs to be fattened up before you can eat him.’’

Derek grins, eyes glinting. ‘’Oh, I’ll eat you up, alright,’’ he promises.  _ ‘’After  _ you’ve changed the sheets.’’

Stiles laughs, his scent flourishing into honeycombs of happiness, escaping Derek’s clutches to the bedroom. Derek watches him go, so incredibly full of love, before he looks down at  his hands, catching a sight of his sturdy, beautiful ring. Something Stiles spent over five years hand crafting him.

He thinks that, yes. A future with Stiles is definitely something to look forward to. And he can’t wait to experience more of it.

_ ‘’C’mon _ , Derek. I can hear you not doing your job of feeding me. I want my bacon  _ crisp _ ,’’ Stiles hollers, which prompts Derek to shake his head in amusement.

He better go feed his husband-to-be. Wouldn’t want his future to start with a sullen, hangry mate.

  
  
  
  


END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also if anyone's interested, this is how I pictured Derek's [ ring ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/eec22c14b593475abf4141e39dad19bc/tumblr_pbfrj23NRq1r5uqbvo1_640.jpg) .

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Gentle Embrace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202523) by [idkmybffspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkmybffspock/pseuds/idkmybffspock)




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